


Invocation of the Hallows

by Wander Riordan (lferion)



Category: Celtic Mythology, Original Work
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Real Events, Paganism, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-31
Updated: 2008-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 03:26:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2214042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/Wander%20Riordan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks are due to Auberus for hand-holding & sanity-checking. Thanks are also due the fire-dancers at the Tucson Celtic Festival 31 Oct 2008 for providing the initial spark in the power of their ritual and the rhythm of one of the songs.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Invocation of the Hallows

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks are due to Auberus for hand-holding & sanity-checking. Thanks are also due the fire-dancers at the Tucson Celtic Festival 31 Oct 2008 for providing the initial spark in the power of their ritual and the rhythm of one of the songs.

I am the wind that will sing in the winter  
I am the fire that leaps in the night  
I am the tears of the babe born at Lammas  
I am the bone and the stag on the height

I am the altar laid bare beneath starlight  
I am the cauldron filled up to the brim  
I am the seed of the sacrificed barley  
I am the well where the wise salmon swim

I am the storm that the Hunt rides at Samhain  
I am the heart that waits stark for the blade  
I am the sickle, the red edge of Autumn  
I am the stone where the first fruits are laid

I am the dew that bejewels the heather  
I am the yew-stave hid in the ash grove  
I am the hawthorn that blossoms at Beltain  
I am the oak that the lightning once clove 

I am the lord of the hunt and the harvest  
I am the warrior slain on the hill  
I am the barley cake broken at sunrise  
I am the mead and the horn it will fill

I am the lintel that wards the north window  
I am the hearthstone set firm in the floor  
I am the pillar that upholds the roof-tree  
I am the iron that latches the door

I am the coal kept alight in the ashes  
I am the harp string that sounds in the hall  
I am the mistletoe gathered at Yuletide  
I am the banner that flies over all


End file.
